Broke Down Spirit

For way too many years I have beaten my self over the head…blamed my self for not understanding enough…for not doing enough…for not being enough…for not caring enough. Thousands of times I have thought and said, “I just don’t get it.” Now I see that I was way too hard on me. Not getting it wasn’t the problem. The problem is that I DO get it…and I don’t like it.

I get it. When people wantto find fault, they find fault. When others want out of a situation or relationship, they find a way out. And, it often involves vitriolic blame cast at the other involved person. Our society conditions victims–not victors. We are conditioned to blame others for anything and everything that doesn’t suit us. Trouble is, we generally have no idea what would suit us…we usually are just railing against stuff that makes us uncomfortable. The object becomes fleeting comfort rather than lasting substance. The flip side of the “wanting out” coin is the “wanting to stay in.” When a relationship is important to those involved, they look for reasons to stay. They look for the good things shared and hope for the good things that may be shared as the relationship progresses. RED FLAG ALERT: Note to Self. When others exhibit repeated expressions of dissatisfaction it means that they are unhappy in the “relationship” and might kill me. Run! [No need to get suicidally frustrated...just get the hell away from them.]

I get it. We are trained to provide — and expect — “disclaimers.” Like, the “socially acceptable” thing for me to do is to open every post with something like this:

I appreciate the opportunity to share my thoughts, feelings, and observations with you. I hope that you are not offended by what I’m about to say. I might be wrong, but don’t think that I am. These are just my thoughts, and I do not expect you to approve of them. Please don’t be hurt by anything that I say. If I offend you, please let me know as soon as possible so that I can make things right. I really don’t know you (all) well enough to tailor my expressions in such a way as to avoid possibly irritating each and every one of you. I care about you…really, I do.

Please.

I get it. I realized and verbalized (just a few days ago) for the first time ever — in spite of being accused of being a rabid pessimist for most of my life — that I am not. I realized that, to my detriment, I (almost) always look for the good in people. I think that there is a way to “make it work.” That is optimism…right? [On a societal level, though, I am a realist.] People tell me I’m extreme, provocative, pessimistic, intense, that I think too much, yada, yada, yada…for one reason: they are uncomfortable around me. They (1) don’t know how to express their discomfort, (2) don’t care enough about our relationship to express their discomfort, (3) despise me, (4) despise themselves, or (5) don’t/won’t/can’t own their “stuff.” [Not meant to be an exhaustive list...just a few options.] RED FLAG ALERT: Note to Self. When others exhibit repeated expressions of dissatisfaction it means that they are unhappy in the “relationship” and might kill me. Run! [No need to get suicidally frustrated...just get the hell away from them.]

I get it. I now know that I am a person who wants to be known deeply and wants to know deeply. I know that this is my definition of intimacy…mutual, deep knowing. Now, I see that this is a rather odd and futile stance. I am surrounded by people who don’t want to be known, and they don’t really want to know me. It’s all about “the show.” It’s all about being seen…recognized. But, only for the doing, not for the being. Better late than never, I guess. At least I’ve finally figured that one out.

I get it. It doesn’t matter how capable, competent, or caring I am. It doesn’t matter how much I give others credit for being capable, competent, and caring. If they don’t recognize their own competency, they won’t recognize mine. If they don’t recognize mine, they will continue to treat me as some sort of mental and emotional invalid. I am not.

I get it. Fantasy is much more controllable — and comfortable — than reality. Subjectivity is cool because it’s so, well…subjective. Online “friends” are wonderful because we can pretty much Play-Doh them into anything we want them to be. If they start coloring outside the lines, we can tell them how awful they are and mash them down and put them back in the can. Our caring for them doesn’t really exist beyond the self-imposed boundaries of our own mind, so we really aren’t “invested” in the relationship…and we don’t really lose anything when we send them packing.

More to come…

Broken & Blessed